Losing Balance
by Calasse
Summary: Tom wondered when flings had gotten so bloody interesting. Part one of the 'Gravity' series. HPTMR.


**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is written and owned by J. K. Rowling. This author does not claim ownership over the series or any other recognizable elements in this story. If there is anything in this piece of fiction that might offend the sensibilities of any reader, kindly send me a message and I will gladly put up an appropriate warning if warranted.

Title of the series this fic is a part of is credited to a similarly titled song, 'Gravity' by Sara Bareilles. Go on, listen to it if you haven't already. It's a beautiful song that holds a lot of weight and meaning. Most of the feelings in the series will stem from the lyrics of 'Gravity', so know to expect a good dose of relationship angst (though I'll try to balance it with a lot of positive themes as well; I won't go overboard with the tears because really, I'm tired of angst as a central factor of Tom and Harry's story).

**Warnings:** Moderately graphic sexual content between two males (**Edit: **And now I've realized, that maybe a paragraph of this is too filthy and graphic for any young reader, or a post on ffn for that matter, so please turn back at your discretion), alternate universe.

**A|N:** Hydrus Black takes the place of Harry Potter in this universe. I tagged this as a oneshot, but **this will be a part of a series centering on this headcanon**. I wanted a bottom Tom Riddle, and I couldn't find anything of it that I liked, so I made myself one. Regretfully, not much of his snark is showcased here, but I originally made this drabble to get over my block for my lab paper that is due a few hours from now.

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

There was a time when Tom would have scoffed at the thought of being in a situation such as the one he was currently in. A situation that stripped him of the position and control that he so stringently coveted, and most times, maintained.

Now was not one of those times.

His fingers tried to grasp at the moving, rickety desk he was pressed upon, failing ultimately because it was simply too small; small enough that Tom wondered if it would long support his weight, in addition to the force of the... _activity_ he was presently engaged in. That train of thought was quickly chased away, however, as his companion shifted and he was forced to cling to the sweat-soaked dress shirt above him lest he fall off.

"_Careful_," he hissed out, before biting his lip and stifling a moan of distress at the sudden loss of fullness inside him when his companion accidentally pulled out. He tightened his grip on the broad shoulders heaving over him, feeling the muscles under his fingers contract with exertion, and tilted his hips up in a clear demand of _more_ and _hurry up_.

His companion grunted as he sank back into Tom's inviting body, while Tom turned his head to muffle another moan with his barely covered shoulder. The young man resumed his fast pace from before, as if there came no interruption at all, and gripped the Slytherin Heir's hips with steadying hands.

Tom felt the thick heirloom ring of his companion's dig into his skin. His brow furrowed in disgruntlement, inexplicably aggrieved with the thought of the runes on the platinum band pushing onto his skin, leaving soft engravings; though he knew full well that the marks would fade in a matter of minutes. He brought a hand down to slap away the bejeweled appendage, but found himself intercepted. His companion laced their fingers together, his large hand engulfing Tom's spindly one.

"Hydrus," Tom complained, unsettled with the action.

Hydrus merely smirked back, and pressed an affectionate kiss on the back of Tom's long-fingered hand as he gave a sharp thrust, letting out a breathless laugh at Tom's surprised yelp. He flicked away the black curls of hair in his eyes, intense green eyes gazing, transfixed, mesmerized, as he watched Tom Riddle come undone before him.

Tom breathed heavily, biting off a harsh, "_Harder, you bloody ape._" He was now unable to suppress the sounds coming out of his throat, curling his long legs tighter around Hydrus' waist and swearing to rip off the white shirt in his fingers at the taunting look in those brilliant green eyes. He turned his head away, embarrassed but unable to help the added flush crawling up from his bite-ridden neck to the tips of his ears. He knew he was already pink from their endeavor and the subsequent heat, marginally grateful that the Durmstrang student would mistake his complexion getting steadily rosier because of their prolonged exertions.

Hydrus quickened his pace, leaning downward to smother Tom's moans with a deep kiss. The hand on the Slytherin's hip crawled upwards to tweak at a rosy nipple, already sensitive because of Hydrus' previous attentions. Tom arched into Hydrus' hovering body, wrenching his mouth away to give a long, drawn out cry, before Hydrus chased his lips with possessive nips and an eager tongue.

It wasn't long before both young men felt their climaxes approaching. Tom tried to meet Hydrus' thrusts with upward twists of his hips, but eventually let the black-haired boy control the movement as the mounting pleasure rendered him putty and incoherent, helpless to the cresting wave at the pit of his stomach. He clutched tightly at the hand entwined with his own, no longer caring about the sounds and pleads spewing from his lips as he came, muscles clenching around Hydrus' cock and bringing the other male to his own orgasm.

Hydrus gave a few more thrusts, riding out his climax, before pulling out and raptly watching the whitish fluid drip out from Tom's pucker and down his milky thighs.

Tom tried to catch his breath. When he felt his breathing return to normal, he looked towards the other male and flushed when he saw where the other's attention was fixated on.

"Oi!" he snapped, kicking his heel against Hydrus' bum. The other boy just smirked at him, dipping a finger into Tom and drawing more of the liquid out. Tom shuddered, a whine escaping him as the Durmstrang champion leisurely fingered his sensitive hole. "Stop it," he managed to grind out, before firmly planting his foot on the other boy's chest and pushing him away.

"But _Tom_," Hydrus endeared, teasingly eyeing the sprawled state of his lover and moving to approach again, "one more time?"

The Slytherin shot him a scathing glance before quickly closing his legs and sitting up, letting a disgusted grimace pull at his lips both at the sticky feeling between his legs and at the suggestive amusement in the Durmstrang champion's eyes. He reached for the wand in the pocket of his robe—Hydrus was too enthusiastic to completely remove all of his clothes, which is why his dress shirt and robe are only open and not off of him, unlike his pants—and cast a couple of _Scourgify_s until he felt relatively clean.

Before Tom could start on tugging up his pants, a warm hand came up to cup his face and bring him to Hydrus' waiting lips. He didn't resist, going so far as to put a hand on Hydrus' neck and tug at the stubborn curls of the young man's black hair, before eventually pulling away.

He cleared his expression into the cool, indifferent countenance he often wore, and ignored the searching look that crossed Hydrus' eyes. That look became unreadable, and Tom staunchly paid no heed to the clenching in his chest.

As they fixed themselves, Tom wondered idly at the heightened frequency of his and Hydrus' rendezvous in the dark, dusty nooks and rooms of Hogwarts, in between classes, on the way to the Great Hall for meals, or under the cover of the deep night. None of their meetings were planned, or spoken of; just propelled, at first, by the taunting and challenging edge of the Durmstrang Triwizard champion's stare that started the moment the foreign envoy set foot on the stone floors of Hogwarts and found his eyes inadvertently drawn to the proud, distinguished figure sitting at the table that bore rich green banners; up till the Sixth Year Slytherin met the fiery regard with his own cool, calculating, but intent gaze.

It was a whirlwind of power and overwhelming intensity, and Tom found himself both empowered and weakened by the Black Heir's presence. Empowered, because he found the competition in Hydrus Black's sharp and intelligent mind stimulating and refreshing, breaking the ennui that had clouded most of his stay in Hogwarts, finding respite in the witty and unafraid retorts that easily came from the Durmstrang student's lips in conversations that went beyond the restrictions of standardized education and mass perception; a personality that he found himself eager to match up to and dominate, if possible.

Weakened, because Hydrus Black, for all his pureblood upbringing and everything that came with the affair, for all his honed skills and fascinating mental processes, for all his sharp tongue and sometimes uncompromising attitude—Hydrus Black had a keen sensibility and profound empathy that was rarely seen in any other, a golden personality that often shone through in times of duress or blanketed confidentiality. He had qualities that Tom had always despised and deemed weak before. The Black Heir held an air of honesty that Tom never before encountered in any other, and he didn't know what to make of it.

He wondered when flings had gotten so bloody _interesting_.

"I'll go ahead; Spell Creation in two minutes." Hydrus grinned roguishly at him, briefly reminding Tom of the other boy's godfather, Head Auror Sirius Black. "Catch you later?" the green-eyed young man pitched, expectant gaze light but serious.

"Yes," he agreed after a split-second's hesitation, nodding. "Later."


End file.
